Only the Strong
by Freya-Kendra
Summary: ca Season 3. Emphasis on Jack & Daniel, but all team members have key roles. On a planet where only the strong are expected to survive, Daniel fights like a champion, Carter is pumped for a shot in the ring, Teal'c goes on a suicide mission & Jack angsts.


Only the Strong

by Freya-Kendra

* * *

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Set _circa_ Season 3, this fic focuses on the original SG-1 and is a true team fic. Although the emphasis is on Jack and Daniel, all 4 team members have key and starring roles.

On a planet where only the strong are expected to survive, Daniel gets the chance to feel like a champion. But don't go dusting off those golden gloves just yet. And what's got Carter so pumped for a shot in the ring? Throw in a suicide mission for Teal'c and this fic serves up plenty of angst for Jack with a decent dash for H/C on the side.

Original Zine : Gateways 4, 2001

First electronic posting: November 25, 2005

Fully re-edited in November, 2009 for posting on

* * *

**Only the Strong**

- 1 -

_No MALP is worth this_, Jack thought as he struggled to take one more step against the planet's scouring winds. The fortress they had glimpsed seconds before losing contact with their now wayward MALP was just a few steps ahead of him. A few miserable steps. The Stargate on the other hand was nearly a quarter mile behind -- far enough to be too far after the short but grueling walk.

When he finally reached the massive outer door, Jack did not hesitate to attempt a heavy knock with the butt of his weapon. Unfortunately, whatever the door was made out of just seemed to absorb the impact. What the hell?

Daniel, less cautious than curious arbitrarily pulled a metal latch that resembled the handle on an old refrigerator.

"Daniel, I wouldn't--"

Major Carter's shout was almost lost amidst the howls of the wind. Maybe it was lost on Daniel. When Daniel gazed back at her, Jack could see his friend's mouth move, forming a word Jack recognized but could not quite hear. "What?"

But Jack's interest was quickly drawn to the dark space opening up at Daniel's back.

"Huh," The colonel uttered in mild surprise as he watched the thick door ease open.

Once they were all safely inside, Jack found himself cringing at the echoes of Daniel's loud hello's while his team cautiously investigated the enormous entry room. They had no idea who lived here. Friend or foe, all they knew was that someone from this planet had first shut down and then stolen a MALP. General Hammond wanted it back. Senator Kinsey wanted alien technologies. Daniel Jackson wanted to learn about the civilization. Jack would be just as happy to find nothing at all but an empty fortress. And for a long while that's exactly what he'd thought they had found. Despite Daniel's hello's reverberating seemingly endlessly against the stone walls and high ceiling, no one ever answered.

They ended up wandering through unused hallways for half an hour before they began to hear a low purr that gradually built into a roar of a thousand conversations. Following the trail of sound, which in turn led them to a trail of light cast by torches along more well worn pathways, Jack O'Neill and his team finally found themselves in the entryway of a vast and crowded room.

Yes, their entry earned a few turned heads; but no one approached them. No one seemed to particularly care.

"Guess they get a lot of visitors," Jack commented.

"Or, not," Daniel countered. "They're not entirely unfazed by us. It's possible they just don't know how to greet us."

So Daniel went on trying to greet them, instead. "Hello? Excuse me. Um Hello." The only responses he received involved odd glances.

Moments later, a Schwarzenegger look-alike in black leather and chains shoved a platter full of what appeared to be some sort of white meat toward Jack's nose. The waiter -- for lack of a better word -- made it clear with a series of grunts and head bobs that he expected Jack to take a piece of his offerings.

"Well, this is nice," Jack said with a plastic smile as he grabbed a chunk of the meat. "Sort of a Hulk Hogan, Jerry Springer, Mad Max, Martha Stewart kind of... thing."

An eruption of shouts and the sound of flesh striking flesh drew his team's attention to a circular area filled with sand occupying the center of the stone tiled room. It appeared as though SG-1 had stumbled upon the sporting event of the season, the kind that involved people beating the snot out of each other for no particular reason -- unless you were a betting man.

The colonel observed the narrowly controlled chaos as he gave the meat a tentative bite. Pleasantly surprised to find the morsel to be more like beef than chicken, he quickly popped the rest into his mouth just as his interest was piqued by a fight between a redheaded woman little bigger than Carter and a pony-tailed man even more broadly built than Teal'c. Jack found himself smiling when the woman toppled the giant in just a few well-executed maneuvers. He caught her eye as she began to saunter gracefully away, and gave her an appreciative nod.

"More like a feeding frenzy on Discovery's World of Sharks," Daniel replied long after Jack had forgotten his own statement.

When the woman disappeared into the crowd, Jack let his full attention wander back to his teammates. "Hmmm?"

Daniel shook his head as Schwarzenegger returned, now offering him the platter. "Um, no. Thank you." But as Daniel held up his hand to emphasize his refusal, Jack saw the waiter tense.

"Watch your manners, Daniel. I think you hurt Arnold's feelings."

As though to prove the warning, the leather-clad mountain of a man snarled and bared his teeth.

"Hey, look, he meant no offense." Jack slowly shifted his position, half expecting the next fight to break out right there and then. "It's just he has this... intestinal... thing. Nasty business. You really don't want to see what could happen if he tries to eat that."

Daniel shot Jack a cold look until another snarl from Schwarzenegger encouraged him to ignore the unappreciated ad-lib.

"I am sorry." Daniel seemed to wait for a reaction, _something_, but the mountain stood silent and still. "Do you understand a word we're saying? Can you even hear me?"

Nothing but a low, warning growl.

"Maybe Fido doesn't speak." Jack's sarcasm contradicted his cautious stance.

"Maybe you'd better take a piece, Daniel," Sam suggested.

Clearly, she was also expecting a fight. Turning his attention back to Daniel, Jack watched his friend study the rock-hard muscles until recognition finally started to dawn in his friend's eyes at how enormous the man actually was. Teal'c really did seem small in comparison. If this man decided to start something, it could turn ugly, fast.

Realizing he'd better heed Sam's advice, Daniel hesitantly reached toward the platter and grabbed a piece of meat. The waiter glared at him, watching intently until Daniel swallowed and mumbled a desperate, "Delicious, thank you."

The mountain emitted one last low rumble before ambling away.

Jack blew out a heavy sigh of relief. "Come on, Daniel! You're the one who's always telling me not to be impolite to our hosts. What's wrong with you?"

Daniel gave him a cold look. "Intestinal thing?"

Jack shrugged. "I didn't want you to seem rude."

Daniel just shook his head. "This _'culture'_ makes no sense, Jack. We've been here for hours, and we still don't know who's in charge. No one will even talk to us."

"I seem to recall pointing out that little tid-bit the minute we let ourselves in. So, you finally ready to agree with me? This is a waste of time. I say we look around a little more, see if we can't find the MALP, then head back to the 'gate."

"There's something missing here, Jack."

"Yeah, and I don't like it. Let's move out."

"Wait, Jack. I mean, this food for example. Where does it come from?"

A nearby fight dropped someone at Daniel's feet. He looked down at a fat, bruised face, and then stepped aside. "I think it's safe to say these people are not farmers."

"He's certainly right there, sir," Carted added. "For that matter, I'm not even sure farming is a possibility." She listened for a moment to the howling wind seeping through cracks somewhere above them. "From the way the ground outside has been scoured clean, I'm not sure that wind ever stops. I don't see how anything could survive very long outside these walls."

Teal'c considered Major Carter's comments. "Perhaps they are supplied by other villages more sheltered from the wind."

Carter nodded. "It's possible. But they would have to be a good distance away. They would need a fairly sophisticated method of..."

The rest of Carter's words were drowned out by a cacophony of shouts and thuds as the entire room erupted into one gigantic barroom brawl.

"Okay, that's it," Jack shouted to be heard above the melee. "We're out of here."

But it was already too late. Two brawlers came between Jack and Daniel. A group of three separated Teal'c and Carter. Between these, still others pressed through, drawing the team members further and further apart. Jack was pushed and pulled and pinned against one fleshy monolith after another. His struggles were useless. By the time he could actually reach for his sidearm or his knife, both were gone.

_You really blew this one, O'Neill!_

Yet, surprisingly, the fighting came to an abrupt end. Between one minute and the next, somehow the crowd's attention turned from breaking each other's heads open and separating SG-1 to watching something in the pit.

_Okay, that's good. Whatever it is. Enough of a diversion to get us out of here, at least._

Jack looked around for his teammates. _Damn!_ Neither Carter nor Daniel was anywhere in sight. But Teal'c was right there, about thirty meters to his left, fighting to regain control of his staff weapon. He wasn't going to succeed. Not without help.

As Jack tried to ease himself in that direction, he realized the crowd was not as oblivious as he'd thought. Several overt glances his way confirmed it. They were not going to let him through. Whether or not the brawl itself had been spontaneous, the separation of his team had been intentional.

_Dammit_! All this just so they could retrieve a stolen MALP. No, that wasn't entirely true. Daniel had insisted on coming. After all, they had seen a hooded figure reaching for the MALP's camera just before they lost the signal. That figure indicated a civilization of some kind. And of course Daniel just couldn't pass up an opportunity to investigate any and all civilizations.

_Civilization._ Jack thought sardonically as he considered the idea of tagging this group of thick-skulled, Hell's Angels' rejects with a term like civilization.

_Should've let them keep the MALP. Wrote it off as just another piece of lost equipment._

Frustrated and waiting for a new plan to present itself, Jack gave in to curiosity and looked over at the pit. A large man -- hell, a huge man was stepping onto the sand. If the growling waiter had been a mountain, then this guy was Everest. He had muscles on top of muscles. When he began to flex, the crowd roared. Jack let himself forget his own situation just long enough to pity the poor fool who was going in against that. Then he lost interest. Whatever happened in the pit, at least it was catching everyone else's attention. If he was lucky, it might even take his guards' eyes off of him and allow him and his team to slip away.

He glanced at Teal'c again, seeing that the Jaffa had lost his struggle. The staff weapon was gone, and two giants stood on either side of him preventing any further resistance.

Oddly, Teal'c seemed to accept his situation. Like everyone else in the room, his focus was now entirely directed at the pit. There must be something damned interesting down there.

When Jack saw his friend stiffen, he did as well. _Definitely not a good sign._ Jack's stomach lurched in premonition. He reluctantly followed Teal'c's gaze to where the second combatant had just been thrown onto the sand. _Daniel!_

- 2 -

Jack watched helplessly as Daniel was tossed about like a rag-doll. Despite his own experience and skills, Jack doubted he would have fared any better. Only Teal'c might have stood any chance at all against the behemoth in the pit. Daniel never even had an opportunity to try any of the evasive maneuvers Jack knew he was capable of. He was just thrown back and forth between the crowd and Mr. Muscles, bumping into an occasional foot or fist from the crowd along the way.

Jack felt every blow, wincing at each new impact. Soon spurts of red began to spatter the sand, though Jack could not get close enough to see how badly Daniel was injured.

Frustration built to anger and swelled to a rage he could never hope to contain. He tried again and again to shove past the men blocking his path to the pit and found himself running into enough fists and elbows to make him more intimately aware of what Daniel was experiencing. But in Jack's case, the blows stopped when he did. It was not so with Daniel.

Giving in to the futility of his efforts, Jack resigned himself to shouting himself hoarse, well aware his was just another voice amongst thousands. He couldn't even will his friend to stay down for the count because Daniel never fully hit the ground.

Jack had never felt more desperate in his life. As his mind began to conjure a graphic reminder of holding the lifeless body of his son, he forced the image back into the dark recesses where it belonged. This was not going to end that way. God help that son-of-a-bitch muscle man if it did.

He wasn't sure how long it lasted. Minutes probably, despite the hours it seemed. When it was done, Daniel truly was down for the count.

The frenzied cheering died quickly. Too quickly, somehow. Jack O'Neill blinked and suddenly the whole bloodthirsty throng had broken into separate groups of drinkers and brawlers once more. It was as though nothing had changed. The whole Daniel-in-the-pit thing never happened. But it had. Despite the gargantuan bodies milling about in front of him, Jack could still catch a glimpse here and there of his fallen friend.

Seeing that his guards had just as quickly lost interest in their little game of keep-away, Jack pushed through the now indifferent crowd to finally, belatedly, do whatever he could for Daniel. Somewhere along the way Teal'c ended up at his side. A quick look showed him that the Jaffa had a split lip. Jack had no doubt there was more damage he would never be made aware of.

Carter was already in the pit, kneeling beside Daniel. She looked up as he and Teal'c entered, revealing her own scars. Jack hoped the dark bruise forming on her cheek did not indicate a broken bone.

"We're out of here," He said coldly. "Teal'c, can you help me get him up?"

"That would not be wise." The speaker, a sixty-ish man with a short, gray beard, appeared on the other side of the pit.

Jack raised a questioning eyebrow.

"If I tend to him, he will be well enough for the testing. This, after all, was just a game. The true testing begins on the morrow."

"A game?"

Gray-beard nodded. "We have never before seen strange faces such as yours. You are a curious puzzle. There were wagers made as to whether or not you were immortals. Jahkob gambled his own life. Now that it is known you are flesh and bone, you will each be tested against comparable opponents."

"No. I don't think so. We're leaving."

"That is not possible."

"Excuse me?"

"If you are not immortals, you are subject to the same rules as everyone else. By those rules, there are only two ways to leave this haven."

"Haven?" Carter repeated a moment before Jack could do so himself.

He looked at her, surprised, and then returned his attention to Gray-Beard. "You're going to tell us what those two ways are, right?"

"Surely it is not a secret. Either you earn the right to be accepted by the gods, or...."

"Or?"

"Or you fail."

"And if you fail?"

"Well, then you are sent to the winds."

"To the winds? You mean, outside the fortress?"

"Yes."

"Okay," Jack nodded. "Fair enough. Let's just say we all failed."

Gray-Beard's eyes widened. "You cannot fail without the trials."

Jack fixed the man with a frigid stare. "Teal'c?" He said a moment later, motioning toward Daniel.

But a new crowd was forming around them.

"No one leaves without the trials," Gray-Beard insisted.

Damn. It was clear the crowd was ready to back Gray-Beard up.

* * *

Surrounded and outnumbered, SG-1 was ushered through a series of dark corridors to a distant wing of the enormous stone fortress. During the long walk, Daniel was carried like a sack of potatoes, carelessly slung over the shoulder of a bald-headed muscle man who could have been the brother of the one who had mangled the quiet archeologist in the pit. Jack and Teal'c received several more bruises between them as they fought for the right to carry their friend properly. But as in the common room earlier, Daniel was to remain out of reach until this crowd of hulks decided otherwise.

"Hey, hey, hey, watch it!" Jack shouted angrily as they rounded a corner and Daniel's limp arms smacked into stone.

His complaints went unheeded.

This last turn took them to an indoor courtyard of sorts. It was honeycombed on all four sides with small, door-less rooms. Those on upper levels were reachable only by flimsy, rope ladders. Fortunately, the members of SG-1 were escorted to one on the main floor.

Expecting to be tossed into a dungeon or at least a locked cell, Jack was surprised and even a bit encouraged. No doors meant no privacy, but there was also no apparent security. Unless this entire crowd was posted to guard-duty, his team might yet be able to escape.

Daniel was dropped onto the nearest of six, narrow cots, the room's only furnishings.

Jack glared coldly at the large man who had carried him, silently willing a confrontation. Win or lose, he figured he'd come out ahead if he landed just one good punch. But Baldy just strolled away without a backward glance.

_Good riddance._

Two others followed the man down the long corridor. Another three trailed behind them.

This was getting better and better. Jack began to feel optimistic. He might be able to get his team out of here even quicker than he'd hoped.

"I have a med-kit in my pack. If you could just get it back for me...."

Jack heard Carter's voice behind him but did not shift his attention from the dispersing crowd.

"Your equipment is of no use to you here," Gray-Beard answered. "We have different ways."

"He needs help."

"Move aside. Please. Let me see to his treatment."

"What is that?"

"This device will heal him. He needs nothing more."

Busily mapping out the escape route in his head, Jack had paid little attention to the conversation until he heard Gray-Beard mention a healing device.

"Excuse me?" When he turned to where the older man sat on the edge of Daniel's cot, Jack was relieved to see the thing in Gray-Beard's hands was not the familiar tool of the Goa'uld. Rather, it was a small, metallic disk.

Obviously irritated by the interruption, Gray-Beard stood to face him. "Your ways are clearly different than ours. But this man's injuries are far too severe for us to debate those differences now...."

"If his injuries are so severe, then why did you let those goons manhandle him the way they did on the way down here?"

Gray-Beard ignored the question. "I am a healer." He raised his hand to show Jack the disk. "This is the mark of my trade. If you stop disrupting me, I will put it to use. If you do not, I will leave here and your friend will be given to the winds."

The two men stared hard at one another until Carter's voice broke the stand-off.

"How does it work?"

It took a moment more before Gray-Beard turned away from the colonel's glare.

"It works. That is all I know."

"How did you come to possess this technology?" Teal'c asked.

"It is a gift from the gods."

"A gift?" Jack warily exchanged glances with his teammates.

"Indeed. Like the food we eat, the clothes we wear."

"These are all gifts?"

"Am I to treat this man, or not?"

Jack hesitated. He needed more answers. But Daniel's need for medical attention was far more urgent. "How do we know that thing's not going to make him worse?"

"Your kind have no trust?"

"You haven't given us much reason to trust you now, have you?"

Gray-Beard sighed heavily. "You each have small injuries. If it would ease your concerns, perhaps I could heal one of those first?"

Without waiting for an answer, he raised the disk to a deep gash over Jack's left eye. "There," He said seconds later as he drew his hand away.

The colonel hesitantly touched his eyebrow.

"It worked, sir," Carter concluded just as he did. "How do you feel?"

"Fine." Jack allowed himself a moment to seriously consider Carter's question, and realized he truly felt no different, though the sting of the cut was noticeably absent. "Fine," He repeated. "Okay, it works. Go ahead and treat him. But we have a few more things to talk about when you're done."

Gray-Beard worked on Daniel for over an hour. Carter stayed beside him throughout the process and even took a few turns herself with the device. When it was done, Gray-Beard stood and approached Jack, who sat on another cot on the other side of the room.

"The fever will break by morning...."

"Fever?"

"It is not unexpected. The body must adjust to the healing that has transpired. When he wakes, he will be hungry. Come to the common room to break your fast. Then the trials will begin. Gray-Beard turned to leave the room.

"Excuse me," Jack called after him, "I did say we had more questions...."

Gray-Beard gave no indication he had heard.

Jack gave a small wave at the healer's retreating back. "Always a pleasure."

His sarcasm was wasted. After watching the old man disappear into the darkness, Jack dropped his head in frustration.

- 3 -

Evening progressed into night, and the crowds from the common room began to groggily stumble by, slowly filling each of the surrounding sleeping chambers. By the time the snoring of the slumbering giants rose to an ear-splitting force, the last of SG-1's guards was enticed into one of the rooms above them. An eager look on the man's face suggested the nature of his anticipated rendezvous.

Jack cocked his head in surprise. "Okay. Looks like it's now or never."

Carter woke easily from the light sleep she had been ordered to attempt and hurried over to Daniel.

"Oh, God! Colonel, he's burning up!"

"Then we'd better move fast. Teal'c, can you get him?"

"I can."

Jack turned back to the doorway, only to find it blocked by the redhead he had admired earlier. She was smiling now much as she had when their eyes had met following her little skirmish with Goliath.

He warily returned her smile. "So, I guess you pulled guard duty tonight, huh?"

She laughed softly. "You will have no more guards tonight. They are all..." She moistened her lips, "Otherwise occupied."

Jack raised his eyebrows and nodded in understanding. "Ah. Then you're here to...?"

"I thought you might need assistance."

Another nod. "And in return?"

"Take me with you."

"What, you don't want to stick around to be 'accepted'?"

Her smile vanished. "No one has been accepted for generations. We will all go to the winds eventually."

"For all you know, that might be exactly where we're going."

"No. You came from elsewhere. Perhaps even from the world of the gods."

Jack sighed. "Look, our friend is pretty messed up, if you hadn't noticed. It's already been proven we're not immortals."

"This does not mean you do not live among gods."

"Well, we don't."

She shrugged. "It does not matter."

"You still want to come? Knowing absolutely nothing about us or where we came from?"

"I know you are not like us. I know you reside somewhere far from here. That is enough."

"Colonel!"

The urgency in Carter's voice brought him around instantly.

"He's on fire!"

"I know, Carter." He kept his tone soft as he inwardly cursed the redhead's interruption. They could have been well on their way out of here by now. "I know."

"No, sir. I mean... he's even hotter now than he was. Even without a thermometer, I'd swear his temperature's gone up at least a couple of degrees in the last few minutes."

Jack did not take his eyes off the woman in the doorway.

"Colonel, if this keeps up, he won't last long enough to make it to the 'gate."

Still he hesitated, considering his options before coming to the inevitable conclusion that there was only one real choice.

"Could you get that healer... guy... back here?"

The red-head looked puzzled. "Your friend has already been healed."

"Apparently... not."

"You would have Horgul heal this fever?"

"Horgul? That's his name? Gray, bearded guy?"

She nodded, confused.

"Ah. You see, we were never actually introduced. I'm Jack, by the way. That's Carter, Teal'c, and... Daniel."

She smiled in sudden understanding. "I am Maywin." She shook her head, still smiling. "We are not accustomed to strangers. This... giving of names...."

"Introduction," Jack corrected.

"This introduction is not needed."

"Well, never say never. Look, Maywin, could you please get Horton back here?"

"Horgul? He cannot heal a fever."

"Isn't that what healers do?"

She shook her head. "No one can heal a fever."

Jack closed his eyes for a moment to control his patience. Then he looked to Carter. The lines of worry creasing her forehead hit him like a punch in the gut. She was never one to jump to conclusions. If she was that concerned, there was a good reason for it.

He took a deep breath and returned his attention to Maywin. "Look, Maywin. For all we know, Horatio even caused the fever. Is there another healer around here? Someone who actually knows what he's doing?"

"Horgul is the first. There is no one with more skill."

"We have got to bring his temperature down," Carter interrupted. Maywin, can you at least get us some ice?"

"Ice would be good," Jack agreed. "Lots and lots of ice."

More puzzlement.

"Ice?" Jack repeated.

It seemed a foreign word to Maywin.

"Frozen water?"

Nothing.

"Really, really cold, hard water...?"

"What do your people do when someone has a fever?" Carter asked finally.

Maywin shook her head again. "Fevers come down. If they do not..." She shrugged, "then the one who is ill is sent to the winds. That is the way with illness."

Jack was startled by her indifference. "And this doesn't bother you?" Of course, he should've expected as much from a culture whose key activity was brawling without cause... or rules, for that matter.

"The fever seems to be an effect of the healing," Carter forestalled whatever answer Maywin might have provided. "There must be something...."

"Then there is no danger," Maywin interrupted.

"What do you mean 'no danger'? Horgul said there would be a fever. But this.... You tell me. Is this type of fever common during a healing?"

Maywin looked bewildered again. She slowly moved to Daniel's cot and placed a hand to his forehead. Feeling the intensity of the heat radiating off of his reddened skin, she hurriedly withdrew, her eyes widening in shock.

"This is not from the healing." She backed into the doorway and cast her eyes upward as though searching the ceiling for something. "This man is ill. He might be sent to the winds at any moment."

"He is not going to the winds," Jack insisted in his most commanding voice. "We are taking him out of here to a place where healers actually heal. Now, can you help us or are we on our own? 'Cos we really don't have time to just stand around here and talk about it anymore."

Maywin looked at Daniel and cocked her head, considering. "This place you are going to, if we fall ill like that, we can be healed?"

"Yes."

She nodded once. "Then I go with you. First, you need cold water?"

"Yes, Maywin, please," Carter answered. "Quickly."

"There is a cold spring just beyond this wall." Maywin nodded towards the back of the small room. "You can bring him there without difficulty."

"How far?" Jack asked, none too eager to delve further into the heart of the fortress.

Maywin shrugged. "Perhaps a hundred steps."

"Okay, let's do it. Teal'c?"

The Jaffa nodded and carefully lifted Daniel from the cot. Concern flared in his dark eyes when he felt the fire burning through the younger man's clothes. Something else burned within Teal'c then as well. Someone would pay dearly for this transgression.

* * *

It was truly a short walk. But it was also a difficult one. As the team eased its way past several open rooms, they waited for any one of dozens of residents to wake from a restless sleep -- or, in some cases, to turn away from a fervent embrace -- just long enough to glimpse the newcomers creeping by and sound an alarm.

Maywin did not share their anxieties. She led SG-1 openly toward the last hole in the wall, this one shielded by a thick, metallic door.

The similarity between this door and the unlocked one that had invited them into this whole mess in the first place sparked a moment of hope in Jack. Yet the spark fizzled when the door opened with a groan loud enough to wake the dead. He cringed and froze, anticipating every last one of those sleeping goons to descend upon them.

Still Maywin was unconcerned -- and apparently rightfully so. No one came at all.

Unfortunately, instead of a true exit this door led them to an external courtyard surrounded by the walls of the fortress on three sides. On the fourth side directly opposite the door rose the sheer rock face of the mountain the fortress clung to. Above, debris caught up by the incessant winds obliterated any hope of seeing what stars inhabited this planet's strange sky or even the mountain's peak. From somewhere up there, a thin waterfall splashed into the narrow spring now gurgling at their feet.

Jack watched with some relief and no small amount of trepidation as Teal'c and Carter stripped Daniel out of his uniform and laid him gently into the stony streambed. Time was ticking away, and this diversion was stealing precious moments. Jack couldn't deny the necessity of their actions. In Daniel's current condition, they'd never be able to protect him sufficiently from the worst of the winds on the way to the 'gate. That he might die anyway was a very real possibility, but Jack O'Neill would not invite that possibility by tempting fate. Still, which was the greater risk? Taking Daniel to the 'gate now or seeing the rest of his team face the trials' come morning? Either way, fate seemed to be rearing its ugly head.

Jack looked around at the walls of the courtyard. Though each held a door, they were otherwise without breaks of any kind. No windows. No crevices. There was nothing at all to suggest a potential escape route -- with the single exception of the stream. Jack noticed the water flowing underneath the wall to his right.

He nodded in that general direction. "Where does the water go?" He had to shout to be heard above the noise of the wind.

Standing beside him, Maywin followed his gaze. "It feeds the baths and kitchens."

He looked back at her, his mind already designing a new plan. "Where does your food come from?"

She shrugged. "The gods of course."

"The gods?"

"Yes. Each day they bring it to us."

Eyebrows shot up in surprise. "How?"

"They leave it outside the kitchens."

"You never see them leave it? The gods?"

"No! We are not allowed to see! They would draw us into the winds if we saw." She looked up and seemed to shrink in upon herself, wrapping her arms across her stomach. "No one is allowed to set eyes on the gods unless they will it. The food is left at night. When the door is opened, the food is there."

"So there is a door to the outside from the kitchens?"

"To the outside?"

"To the winds?"

"Yes. Although there is some protection, as there is here."

"Another courtyard?"

"No. There is a roof. And three walls. Nothing more."

Jack studied the spot where the stream seemed to melt right into the wall. He nodded without even realizing he was doing so. There was just one more thing.

He turned back to Maywin. "Our packs. Our equipment. Do you know where they are?"

Her answering nod was enough to solidify his plans for the night. As soon as he saw his team safely back to their little niche in the wall, he and Maywin would have some business to attend to.

- 4 -

Sam Carter jumped out of an odd dream about a wrestling match at the SGC refereed by none other than General Hammond. Once she blinked the sleep from her eyes and shook her head clear of the dream's foggy remnants, she found an unusually reflective Colonel O'Neill staring at a sleeping Daniel Jackson.

"Is something wrong, sir? Daniel?"

The colonel gave her a brief smile and shook his head. "Daniel seems fine. No fever. Hunky- dorie. Good as gold. Ready to roll."

Encouraged, Sam pushed herself out of bed and began to tuck in her shirt. "We'd better be going then. Why didn't you wake me?" She looked around the small room. "Where's Teal'c?"

Giving her a quick glance, he held up his hand. "Relax. We're not leaving yet. We missed the cut-off." He inclined his head toward the still dark and apparently deserted internal courtyard. "They all got up hours ago. I'm guessing we missed breakfast. Teal'c went to see if he could figure out what we might be up against today."

She looked into the dark courtyard. "No guards?"

"Nope. Seems they decided we didn't need them anymore. Something about the fact that they all survived the night without us turning into demons and slashing their throats... or something to that effect. I'm sure Daniel would've remembered it better."

"Sir?"

"Some old legend of theirs. Something about werewolf-vampires or... whatever. Maywin told me last night."

Missing the look of disturbed surprise Sam threw him at his mention of that name, Jack nodded toward the corner of the room beside her. "Got our packs back. No weapons, though. The 'gods' took those away already."

Her initial satisfaction at the news about their packs quickly gave way to guarded surprise. "Goa'ulds?"

"No. I don't think so. Not their style. According to Maywin, the weapons just miraculously...disappeared."

"A transportation device? Maybe that's the same way they send people to the winds. Sir, do you know where...?"

"There is no 'where', Major. I already considered that. According to Maywin, when people are sent to the winds, it's not a conscious decision by anyone here. These 'gods' just reach out and grab them somehow from wherever they happen to be at the moment. Apparently, it's the same with weapons."

He paused for a moment, studying his hands. "I did some re-con during Teal'c's watch. It seems we can go anywhere we please. Do anything we please. Except leave."

She was confused. "But if they'll let us go wherever we want, how can they stop us from leaving?"

He smiled sadly back at her. "Pretty successfully, actually. Ya' see, that big door we came in through yesterday is one-way only. It's rigged somehow. Impossible to open from this side. And the one in the kitchen.... Well, that's on some kind of a timer. Only opens once a day, and only in the morning."

"Well, maybe I could...."

"Nope."

"Sir?"

"Maywin gave me a little demonstration. Let's just say without a bomb squad, we're not going anywhere near those doors."

"Until morning."

"Yeah. Right. Which means.... "

"The trials."

"Ee -yup."

"You don't think they expect Daniel to fight again today, do you?"

"Again? Hell, they didn't give him a chance to fight yesterday. But, yeah, I think they expect to throw him back in the ring along with the rest of us."

"Colonel, I've been thinking about that healing device Horgul used. The problem with it might be that it's not configured for our physiology. We may be just different enough to cause the kind of reaction Daniel experienced. If I'm right, he may not be able to survive another healing."

Colonel ONeill did not appear surprised, but waited a moment before answering. "Major," He said, still facing Daniel, "whatever happens today, I don't want you to let Horgul or any other healer near either Daniel or me. Can I count on you for that?"

"Of course, sir."

"Whatever happens." He finally turned to face her, pointedly catching her eye. "Consider that an order, Major."

His eyes were dark and demanding, and Sam felt unusually uncomfortable under their scrutiny.

"Understood, sir." She did not like the implications of his words.

"And tomorrow morning, you've got to be at that kitchen door before it opens."

"Me?"

"You, Teal'c... " He looked at his hands again, "SG-1. Let's just say, whoever isn't thrown out of here today is walking out on their own tomorrow morning."

* * *

Daniel woke like a kid on a holiday from school, blissfully oblivious. He hummed his way through a yawn and contentedly stretched his limbs. When he saw his teammates, he flashed them a broad, carefree grin.

"Hey, guys! Where's breakfast? I'm starving!"

Sam was beside him in an instant checking his temperature with the back of her hand.

"How are you feeling, Daniel?"

"Feeling?" The intensity of Sam's gaze and the depth of her concern made him giggle. "I'm great. I'm... hungry. But I'm... great!"

He rose shakily.

"Whoa, there, Danny-boy." Jack took hold of his arm to steady him. "Looks like you haven't got your sea legs yet."

Daniel smiled drunkenly as he pushed Jack away. "Lighten up! I stood up too fast. That's all. Geez. You'd think I just climbed out of my death-bed or something. I mean, look at you two!" He grinned and shook his head.

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Daniel, technically speaking you did just get up out of your death-bed."

The younger man met his eyes, appearing somewhat surprised but not particularly concerned about the revelation.

"Huh." He considered Jack's words briefly and shrugged before proceeding through the door. Once in the courtyard he turned a quick circle, his balance faltering yet again, and then poked his head back into the room. "You guys have any idea where the food is?"

* * *

They found Teal'c in the common room, as Horgul had referred to the room with the pit. Or rather, Teal'c found them. The Jaffa was at Jack's side the moment they came through the door.

"Daniel Jackson," He bowed his head slightly in greeting. "I am pleased to see you are well."

"Oh, hey, Teal'c." Daniel barely glanced at him. "Do you know where they keep the food around here?"

Teal'c turned a questioning eye on Jack.

"Apparently that healing device of theirs has some side effects no one bothered to tell us about. What did you find out?"

"The trials appear to be spontaneous pairings, although there are similarities to the size and weight of the individuals who compete against one another."

"Similarities?" Jack's eyebrows shot up skeptically. "Like the David and Goliath thing they had going with Daniel last night?"

As his thoughts returned to Daniel, Jack instinctively looked towards the younger man -- only to find he had carelessly wandered off.

"Dammit, Daniel!"

The rest of SG-1 caught up with their wayward teammate just as he started reaching over the shoulder of a particularly angry looking biker type.

"Excuse me," Daniel said politely, grabbing a half-eaten loaf of bread right off of the man's plate. "You weren't going to finish this, were you?"

Rather than waiting for a reply, he bit into his prize, oblivious to the soggy mess left over from whatever the man had been dipping it into. When the man did nothing more than give Daniel a cold glare, Jack smiled and nodded in greeting, then grabbed Daniel's arm and yanked him away from any potentially delayed repercussions.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm sorry. Did you want some?"

Realizing Daniel was absolutely clueless, Jack tried to release his aggravation by blowing out a rush of air rather than the expletives sitting on the edge of his tongue. It was a poor substitute, but Daniel didn't deserve the tirade. He was obviously still under the influence of whatever these animals had done to him.

"No," Jack said finally, pushing Daniel's hand and the disgusting bread away from his face. "Look, do you think you could contain yourself a little?"

Daniel seemed puzzled. "What?"

Jack clenched his jaw, closed his eyes and sucked in a long breath. A moment later he turned to Carter. "Major, do you think you could keep Danny here out of trouble?"

"Of course, sir."

He noticed Carter wrinkle her nose in revulsion as Daniel took another bite of his stolen bread. "Okay, Tealc. So where were we?"

Teal'c raised an eyebrow at Daniels ravenous and somewhat drunken behavior. "The pairing we saw last night, He answered, does not appear to be typical. I understand Daniel Jackson will be tested today against another who is more similar to his stature."

"Is there any way we can delay that until tomorrow, or maybe even prevent it altogether, say if I took his round?"

"I do not believe that is possible. I have attempted to ensure Daniel Jackson will be the last among us to be tested. However, it is generally understood that we will all be tested by nightfall."

"By nightfall, huh?" The colonel looked at his watch. "Then that gives us what, about ten hours? Okay, no problem. Between you, me and Carter, we just make sure our own rounds last about three hours each." He closed his eyes, shook his head, and whispered a soft "Oy."

- 5 -

A disturbance near the pit caught Jack's attention just as Carter broke in on his radio.

"Major," He responded, warily watching the gathering crowd, "where's Daniel?"

"They're leading him back into the pit."

"What?" He glared at Teal'c. "I thought you said he was due to go on last?"

The Jaffa inclined his head. "So I was led to believe."

"Daniel volunteered, Colonel," Carter broke in. "Actually, he insisted."

Jack rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Carter, I thought I told you to keep him out of trouble."

"I tried, sir."

Ah, Hell.

* * *

By the time Jack and Teal'c made it to the pit, the "trial" had begun in earnest. As promised, Daniel's opponent was similar to him in height and weight, but certainly not in age. The man was young. Very young. Barely a man at all, in fact. Jack guessed him to be no more than eighteen. Nineteen, tops. Nonetheless, Daniel appeared to be holding his own quite well. Perhaps even too well.

Daniel focused on offense rather than defense, punching and kicking with a deftness Jack had never seen in him before. At first Jack felt a touch of pride. Daniel had actually learned something from him. But his pride did not last long. His friend was too eager out there. He seemed to be enjoying himself as he pushed for control of the match. He smiled broadly whenever his bare knuckles hit their target.

He would wear himself out long before his younger opponent would even be winded. And his opponent was as aware of that fact as Jack. The youth was just biding his time, waiting for Daniel's strength to ebb away. He did not have to wait long.

Though he was still smiling, Daniel quickly lost his edge. He began to breathe heavily, and his reflexes slowed dramatically. He started taking far more punches than he was giving. A solid thwack across his jaw sent blood spewing from a cut lip. Another clearly broke his nose. Yet another drove a gash across his brow, spilling blood into his right eye. None of those hits brought him down, however. Nor did they lessen his enthusiasm.

His knuckles raw from the blows he had landed, his face a battered mess, Daniel still lashed out at his opponent, continuing to take pleasure whenever he made contact.

Clearly, that was not Daniel Jackson in the pit. It was a man obsessed with the fight, unaware of anything else. Jack tried to catch his attention constantly, hoping the typically quiet archeologist would heed his advice and take a dive, end the fight before it was too late, before he was irreparably injured and subsequently sacrificed to the winds. But since that was not Daniel in there, he ignored Jack -- as he ignored Sam and Teal'c, and even the shouting throngs that were thrilled to be entertained by such a bloodbath. There was only one thing on Daniel's mind, possessing him, forcing him to focus completely on his opponent... possessing him, causing him to feel nothing, or perhaps to feel invincible... possessing him....

A stray thought juxtaposed the image of a Goa'uld's glowing eyes over Daniel's. Jack's stomach churned in protest.

No wonder these people spent their lives in the ring. After they fought, they were healed, and something in the healing process fed their need to fight. Such was the cycle of life on P9X-721.

Jack knew he should never have trusted that Horgan guy. He was angry at himself for ever agreeing to Daniel's healing. They should have taken care of him on their own. Daniel had been the guinea pig often enough to prove there was always a price to pay for instant healing.

He returned his attention to the sickening scene playing out in the pit. Was there some part of his friend tucked away in that monster, somewhere? Jack could almost hear Daniel pleading with him to make him stop. But there was nothing he could do.

Finally, Daniel went down. A punch to his kidneys, another to his gut, and a third in quick succession coming up under his chin sent him sprawling. He lay still for a moment, winded.

"Stay there, Daniel!" Jack shouted. "Don't move!"

Daniel's opponent stood back, watching for something. There was no referee, no one counting time, no one to call him victorious. Still, the youth was watching for something, waiting for something. The entire crowd waited with him, momentarily hushed. When the moment passed without incident, Daniel's opponent approached him once more. A gentle nudge with his foot proved Daniel was still conscious. Apparently, that was all that mattered. The nudge became a kick, followed by another, and another.

"Hey!" Jack yelled, his face red with rage.

Hands grabbed him, holding him firm, denying him any hope of going to his friend's aid. This was becoming a habit. Or a nightmare. Jack was damned if he was going to let it play out again tomorrow. But apparently that same thought was on the mind of Daniel's opponent. His kicks were brutal. Deadly.

Daniel curled into a ball, desperate to shield himself from the onslaught. It was no use. Jack watched his body rock and lurch with each impact.

Jack screamed his throat raw and threw himself against the concrete grips that held him. It was a wasted effort, but necessary, nonetheless. He couldn't just stand and watch any more than Daniel could unwind himself from that instinctive ball.

Yet even instincts fail eventually.

Daniel's feigned cocoon began to dissolve. His hands went limp, leaving his face unprotected. His knees pulled away from his chest, exposing his ribs to the youth's final, crushing blows.

An eternity later, the youth stood back.

The hush returned.

And the unthinkable happened.

In a quick flash of light, Daniel disappeared.

Jack swallowed bile. He knew exactly what he would have to do to follow his friend.

- 6 -

Jack O'Neill stood in the center of the pit staring at the blood-spattered sand. He'd been determined to get his own trial over and done with the very instant Daniel was sent to the winds, as these people so delicately described banishment and certain death. But the locals did not share his eagerness. They settled back to consume more food and more of that hideous ale they seemed so fond of, and left him to wait on a schedule which had no rhyme or reason whatsoever.

The wait encouraged the rest of his team to confront him about his own suicidal plans.

"You will not be sent to Daniel Jackson's location unless you suffer injuries beyond their healing capabilities."

"Yeah, Teal'c, that about covers it."

"Colonel," Carter interrupted, "It's been two hours. In the condition he was in, if he is out there.... I'm sorry, sir. I just don't see how anyone could survive."

He did not look at her. "I know. But two hours are better odds than twenty."

She shrugged in acquiescence, though he did not see the gesture. "How could your joining him under the same conditions possibly help? Sir, it would be suicide."

"Maybe."

"Major Carter is correct, O'Neill. Your death would bring no assistance to Daniel Jackson." Jack turned on the Jaffa, his eyes glaring. "Dammit, Teal'c. I am not going to wait until morning. I am not going to sit on my ass while a member of my team is getting sandblasted out there."

"Then permit me to face the next trial."

Jack was caught off guard by the unexpected response. "Excuse me?"

"My prim'ta would increase the probability of my own survival."

"No, Teal'c. I still don't like the odds. Daniel's my responsibility."

"Do your armed forces not allow warriors to volunteer their own lives where the possibility of success is deemed poor?"

"You know damned well they do. When the objectives require it. When the stakes are a lot higher than they are now. Saving the world, for example."

"Is not saving one life also considered high stakes?"

"Teal'c, you're not doing this."

"O'Neill, your decision is flawed in this instance."

He opened his mouth to argue, but Teal'c did not give him the opportunity.

"If you proceed as you intend, you and Daniel Jackson will both die. If I proceed in your place, there is a possibility Daniel Jackson and I may both survive."

Jack stared hard at the Jaffa. He was standing there so tall, so calm, so unaffected... and so damned right. Damn the man's logic, and his stoicism.

"Damn you, Teal'c, if you die out there...."

Jack's words were hushed but powerful, electrified by the thunderstorm raging in his chest. He was ready to explode and eager to let it happen. Right there, in the pit. Against every single one of these goons.

When it came time for his own trial, he was going to enjoy every moment of it.

* * *

Just as Sam was beginning to appreciate Maywin's absence, the redhead appeared once again at Colonel O'Neill's side.

Sam did not trust that woman. Maywin was too eager to leave a society she fit into quite nicely. There was an edge about her that made it obvious how thoroughly she enjoyed these fights. She loved to watch them, and she loved to participate in them. Sam had seen the almost passionate desire obsessing the redhead during Daniel's battering the night before. It would have been impossible to miss. Maywin had been among the group preventing her from going to Daniel's aid. In fact, Sam was sure Maywin was the one to blame for the colorful bruise on her own cheek.

But here the woman was again, sidling up to the colonel like some trampy Mata Hari just as Teal'c's trial was getting underway.

Disgusted, Sam turned her attention to the pit, watching the finesse of a true warrior matched against the raw power of an experienced brute -- an artist pitted against a playground bully. The outcome could by no means have been assured, yet she felt confident Teal'c would win -- if he had not already committed himself to losing. Hopefully, Teal'c's opponent was also beginning to believe Teal'c might win.

The Jaffa intended to make his opponent work for this victory. Teal'c would force the man back and weaken his confidence. Later, when Teal'c appeared to tire, his opponent would become encouraged by the renewed advantage. The man should grow bolder, fiercer, more brutal, finally employing the strength needed to cause the severity of injuries Teal'c knew he must sustain.

That Teal'c must lose, perhaps even fatally so, on the slim chance he might yet save Daniel -- on the even slimmer chance that Daniel might still be alive -- made Sam feel ill. She turned away, her eyes falling once again on Maywin.

There. That desire again. Maywin was taking great pleasure in this match. And more than just the match. Sam followed the woman's gaze back to the pit. Maywin was admiring Teal'c. The woman's eyes were locked on his glistening, dark muscles. She seemed intoxicated by his mastery, his skill, enthralled by him in general.

Passion. Yearning. These were what Maywin's gaze implied.

Feeling sicker still, Sam began to wonder about all the stories Maywin had filled the colonel's head with. Why had he believed her so willingly? Had his own brief encounter with Horgul's healing device altered his judgment somehow?

Were the doors truly rigged as he had said?

Her heart began to race. My God! Why hadn't she considered these things sooner? Why had she just accepted the colonel's word? She should be out there right now, checking those doors herself. Holy Hannah! Might she have been able to prevent Daniel's trial?

"Teal'c!" She tried to get his attention, to tell him to hold on, to keep the fight going, but her voice was lost in the crowd.

He started to fall back. He was letting the latter part of his strategy play out.

No!

Sam caught another glimpse of Maywin. The redhead's brows furrowed in confusion, and her mouth opened against some word she seemed to forget even before uttering it.

_Damn you, Maywin!_ What was the woman up to? Why would she have lied to them -- to the colonel? Or had she lied? Sam had no way of knowing, and no time to look for the truth. Teal'c was letting himself lose. As expected, his opponent was pressing his advantage, attacking the Jaffa with cruel, deadly blows.

Barely able to breathe, Sam flinched away from a particularly vicious punch that caught Teal'c right in the throat. When she opened her eyes again, there was Maywin. Again.

_Damn you, Maywin!_

The redhead's lip curled in disgust. Her interest in the trial now completely gone, Maywin turned away from the pit... directly into Sam's icy stare.

Sam lifted her chin in defiance and balled her hands into fists. She suddenly felt ready for her own trial, ready in fact to start it right at that moment, right there, outside the pit.

But a bright light pulled her attention back to Teal'c... just as he faded into nothingness.

"Teal'c!"

Sam studied the spot where he had been, then closed her eyes, silently praying his plan would work. When she looked up again, Maywin was gone.

Damn you, Maywin! Samantha Carter was ready to send the woman straight to hell.

- 7 -

Teal'c was trapped in a vision.

He was surrounded by hooded figures chanting in a language he did not understand. Their voices echoed with an incredible resonance. Surely he must be within a vast chamber, perhaps a temple or cathedral. Yet even as he considered such a location, he knew it could not be so. He remembered the trial, the fight in the pit.

Indeed, this must be a delusion, an hallucination. He had been sent to the winds. He must be outside the great fortress city -- a city that had no name because its people had no need to distinguish it from any other. There were no other cities. No towns, no villages. There was only the fortress. And the winds.

The chanting continued. It was a tranquil sound, threatening to overwhelm him in its simplicity, deigning to render him calm and content. He must fight it.

Teal'c had sought banishment to the winds to rescue Daniel Jackson. He must accept the truth of where he was. He must allow the pain of his injuries to awaken him, to summon him back to consciousness.

Yet he could find no pain.

He fought to feel the bitter whip of the winds; yet he felt only quiet comfort.

He struggled to hear the wind's fierce howling; yet he heard only the chanting.

Time passed. Perhaps minutes. Perhaps hours. He had no sense of it, only of the chanting.

Finally, a great, shuddering breath revived him. He rose in an instant, sitting upright on a platform of some kind. In that instant, the chanting stopped. He was alone.

Teal'c quickly gathered his senses and looked about him. He was in a gilded chamber, surrounded by gleaming, golden walls. Recognizing the familiar hieroglyphs of the Goa'uld, he set his jaw in hatred. His team had been deceived. He had fallen prey to a great ruse and was now held captive by his enemies.

Determined not to be a victim, he was resolved to show his captors he was a warrior, and he would be a warrior until his last breath. Somewhere within this structure, Daniel Jackson must also be imprisoned. Teal'c had vowed to rescue the archeologist. Though he may have little hope of success, he intended to do whatever was in his power to keep that promise.

He stepped off the platform, eyeing the nearest doorway; yet before he could even begin to move toward it another opened behind him. He spun about, expecting Jaffa. What he saw instead confused him.

Several figures approached, perhaps twenty in number. They were dressed in a hooded garb such as those worn by the priests on Chu'lak but different enough to distinguish them as something unique, something he could not equate with the sacred teachings. The garments these figures wore glowed. Whether it was a strange dye or the cloth itself, somehow the garments cast enough light to obscure the faces beyond the folds of their hoods.

"You are Jaffa." The foremost figure spoke in a fine, tenor voice, reminiscent of the chant.

Teal'c inclined his head in answer.

"The Goa'uld have been absent for many generations." This voice came from the left side of the group, though it sounded nearly identical to the first. "Do you prepare us for their return?"

Teal'c raised an eyebrow, pleasantly surprised by the implications of these words. "I do not." Then, daring to accept what was implied, "I have allied myself with the Tau'ri against the Goa'uld."

There was a long pause as the hooded figures exchanged curious glances. Then a third, almost identical voice offered: "The Tau'ri? We do not know this name."

"The Tau'ri have long been hosts of the Goa'uld. Many were taken as slaves millennia ago. Now their descendants do battle with the Goa'uld to free all races."

Another pause. Then another voice: "You are a Jaffa, yet you do not serve the Goa'uld?"

Once again, Teal'c nodded.

The original speaker stepped closer to Teal'c, though the face remained obscured. "Long ago, we journeyed among the stars. If what you say is true, then much has changed since we ceased those journeys."

"Indeed. The Tau'ri have come forth to challenge the Goa'uld as no race has ever done before."

"Why have you betrayed the Goa'uld?"

Teal'c raised his chin and held himself with all the pride of Chu'lak. "Because I saw the courage of the Tau'ri. Because I believed they had the strength and the will to finally save my people from slavery."

"You speak the truth." This was said as a statement of fact, a firm acceptance of Teal'c's words.

"I do."

"Then so shall we, to you."

A new voice arose from somewhere in the midst of the figures. "When we first encountered the Goa'uld many turns ago, we sought friendship. We are not a warring race. Yet, the Goa'uld do not cherish peace as we do, and our bodies cannot serve their needs. Thus they sought to destroy us."

The next voice came from the right side of the crowd. "Those of our race who survived were imprisoned here. We were given the task of servicing another race, one which lives upon the surface of this world, a race bred to be as hosts to the Goa'uld."

Yet another voice took up the explanation. "In the beginning, there were Jaffa placed among us as guards, though they served no purpose. We are a peaceful race. We were not a threat. And since the host-race above us would perish without our service, we were willing to serve."

So many voices, all similar in tone, made it difficult for Teal'c to identify each speaker. Yet, he listened carefully. The words mattered far more than the individuals providing them.

"One day the Jaffa left us, though we have continued to service the host-race."

"They would perish without our service. They know not how to nourish and clothe themselves. They know only the ways the Goa'uld taught them, ways of violence such that we do not understand."

"Before the Jaffa left us, the weakest of their numbers were cast out. Those who could fight no longer and those who saw death were sent into the winds. Regrettably, it was our technologies which sent them thus."

Teal'c furrowed his brow. "You speak of the past. But this casting out is still practiced."

"Yes. But they are no longer sent to the winds."

"Instead, we bring them here to heal them and to give them new lives among us."

"As we have brought you and the one who came before you."

Another pleasant surprise. "You speak of Daniel Jackson, my friend. Will you take me to him?"

A short hesitation gave Teal'c cause for concern.

"Your friend does not respond well to our physicians' efforts."

Teal'c gave a small nod of understanding. "He was treated by a healer in the fortress. A hand device was used to heal wounds he received when forced to do battle. This healing caused within him a high fever which threatened his life."

"Yet he fought again?"

Teal'c nodded. "As is the custom within the fortress. He was given no choice."

"They are a cruel people. Even here it is difficult to nurture that cruelty out of them."

Teal'c turned in the general direction of the most recent speaker. "One of those who came with me to the fortress believes much of their violent nature may be caused by their healing device."

"So it is. We provided these devices when the Goa'uld would give them nothing."

"The Goa'uld decreed only the strong should survive to serve them. In their eyes, healing brings weakness."

Teal'c looked to the figure directly in front of him. "The Goa'uld use a sarcophagus for healing, but a human can become dependent upon repeated use. My friend, Daniel Jackson, has experienced this effect."

The figures looked to one another in silence, then five of their number turned from the group and left the room.

When the discourse continued, it was entirely left to the figure Teal'c had given his focus to. "We created a device for use by the race above, which the Goa'uld approved of. As this device heals, it activates a chemical reaction to intensify their warrior nature. The sarcophagus of the Goa'uld also yields reactions, as do the devices we use here to heal those who have been cast out and to free them from the effects of the device used above. Your friend has been subjected to all three. This may be what inhibits our treatment of him."

- 8 -

Shortly after Teal'c's disappearance, the trials were stopped for the day. A great deal of confusion arose from that event, somehow resulting in Jack and Carter being 'sent to their room', as the colonel deciphered the incident. Many of the locals now milled aimlessly about in the large courtyard beyond, utterly lost without the trials to keep them entertained and seeming somewhat paranoid of the newcomers. Of course, no one had even bothered to explain exactly what the problem was, but bits and pieces of conversations suggested the locals feared some great, catastrophic event if just one more of the strangers was sent to the winds. There was talk about things happening in _threes'_.

Jack watched the locals watching him while Carter paced the small room -- a difficult thing to do since she could take no more than three steps in any given direction. He followed her dizzying motions out of the corner of his eye, his own anxiety rapidly reaching overload.

Unable to take it any longer, he rose and grabbed her by the shoulders. "Enough, already! If you think you're going to tunnel us out of here, then wearing a rut in the floor is about the slowest way to go about it. Not to mention the most annoying."

Her shoulder muscles felt like iron rods in his hands, and her eyes flashed him a look of such cold defiance it stole his breath for a moment.

"Lighten up, Carter. All we've got to do is wait it out until dawn. Then we're out of here. We get Teal'c and Daniel...."

He released his grip. "That is, assuming they're still alive. And we go home."

"How could they do that, sir?" Carter looked both injured and enraged.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I was sort of counting on you to figure that one out. Some sort of a 'beam me up, Scotty kind of thing, isn't it?"

She looked away in frustration. "I mean stopping the trials like they did."

She met his eyes again. "We have a right to prove ourselves. Actually, based on their system we have a duty to prove ourselves!"

Jack's eyebrows shot up once more. "Excuse me? You mean you're actually disappointed you didn't get your time in the pit?"

Now it was her turn to be surprised. "Hell, yes! Of course I am! Aren't you?"

"No!" The word came out more sharply than he intended, but her sudden irrationality struck him like a blow. He raised his hands to her shoulders once more. "Carter, what's wrong with you?"

She threw her arms up to shake off his grip. "I'm fine. I'm better than fine. In fact, I'm ready to kick some greedy, little redheaded a...."

"Major!" Jack did not like the implications. "That better not be jealousy I'm hearing."

"Jealou...." Stunned, she could not complete the word. "I don't believe you, Colonel! You think I'm jealous?"

"You're not?" Strangely, he felt somehow wounded.

"Don't you see what she's done? No offense, sir, but she's been playing you like a bad piano!"

"She has, has she?"

"Yes! Those doors aren't rigged at all! Admit it. You just took her word for it, like you expected me to take your word...."

"That's enough, Major! Let's get something clear, here. First of all, despite your obvious distrust in me, I am not that easily manipulated. Second, you're damned right I expect you to take my word for things! Last I checked, you're still under my command. And if you think I'm going to get stupid any time an attractive alien woman flirts with me, then maybe it's time you joined another team."

There was a long, silent moment as they stared at one another.

"You want to know why I know those doors are rigged?" His tone was low and cold. "Maywin and I performed a little test on the outer door, the one we came in through yesterday. She practically went ballistic every time I came even close to touching it, so eventually we got a hold of a small, wheeled, metal cart. Just gave it a little push so it could give the door a little nudge. A second later that cart was toast. The metal was a bubbling, liquefied goo. Nothing else was even remotely recognizable."

"That's it?" She shook her head in disbelief. "Just one test?"

"Carter! That's enough! I assure you I am in full possession of my mental faculties. Now, you, on the other hand...."

"Me? What's wrong with me?"

He grabbed hold of her arm, stopping her from the rhythmic pounding she'd been giving her thigh. "Look at yourself!"

She became aware of her tight fist and watched in amazement as he slowly pried her fingers open, revealing the bleeding marks in her palm where her short nails had dug deep into her flesh.

"Holy Hannah!" She whispered. Then, looking up imploringly into her CO's eyes, "I.... I haven't been acting like...."

"Like Daniel? Well, not like the drunk Daniel who woke up this morning...."

"But the way he was acting in the pit...."

"That Daniel?" He hesitated, meeting her desperate gaze with his own, cautious one. "Yes. Exactly like Daniel."

- 9 -

Daniel struggled to focus his one good eye on the hooded figure tending the tube in his neck.

"Wh...." What was wrong with his voice? He cleared his throat and tried again. "What happened?" He did not sound like himself at all. His voice was hoarse, as though he had spent an eternity shouting and now was paying the price.

The hooded figure stopped its ministrations, turning its face toward him. Daniel could see nothing of that face, however. It was obscured by the folds of the hood. And that hood.... At first Daniel had thought the poor state of his eyes -- or eye since his other appeared to be permanently shut -- had simply played a trick on him; yet now it seemed the figure's hood and robe actually glowed somehow.

"Who are you?" Daniel managed to whisper. "Where am I?"

His eye took in the golden ceiling above him.

Panic moved his limbs before he could even give thought to his actions. He grabbed for the side of the narrow bed with his bandaged hands and tried to roll to the ground. Pain forced him back as the room went from gold to gray to black.

When he woke again, there were two hooded figures looking down at him from the foot of the bed. A third stood to his side, its hand resting gently on his shoulder. He turned to this third figure, seeing long, brown fingers unlike any race he'd yet encountered. As those fingers began a soft, rubbing motion, he was reminded of his mother comforting him when he had been stricken by some childhood illness or another. He could picture her face in the folds of that hood.

"Who are you?" He asked without fear.

"We are the Anturee. This is our place."

"Wh... What place?"

"We are beneath the planet's surface. We brought you here when those above cast you out."

Daniel searched his memories. First he saw the waiter. Then he remembered his earlier conversation with Jack. _Wait, Jack. I mean, this food for example. Where does it come from.... I think it's safe to say these people are not farmers._

"You've been protecting them." His voice remained raspy and thin. "Feeding them."

"Yes."

It made sense. He knew there had to be more to the story than what they had seen in that room. But what brought him from there to here? There were so many holes in his memory.

"How..." He closed his eye and tried to draw on the strength he needed to fill those holes. "How did I get here? Where are my friends?"

"You were cast out."

"Cast out?"

"You remember nothing?"

There was something tugging at the edges of his consciousness. Images. Sounds. He could see the pit. He could hear people shouting in enthusiasm at some sort of boxing match that was going on. But why did he see himself in the ring?

"Fighting?" He spoke the word aloud, as though to ask how it could be possible. His memories seemed to describe someone else's life, surely not his own. There was an odd sense of excitement associated with the even odder image. He had never enjoyed fighting, could never enjoy it.

"Yes. So it is with those above."

Daniel studied the dark figure, puzzled by his own memories and equally puzzled by the figure's words.

"The Goa'uld commanded them to be strong."

Mention of the Goa'uld caught Daniel's breath. He could feel his pulse increasing in the hastened throbbing of his temples, then closed his eye to calm himself, knowing there was nothing he could do. "You serve the Goa'uld."

"We once served the Goa'uld. We await their return."

Hope moved Daniel's attention back to the figure still comforting him with those delicate, brown fingers. "Return? They've left here."

"Long ago."

He breathed deeply in relief, regretting the action when his ribs screamed out in protest. The pain did not subside for some time. When it did, it left him weary. Yet he had to continue his questions. He had to fill the gaps. "My friends...." He needed to stay conscious just a little longer. "Do they know I'm here?"

"Your friends who remain above know only that you have been cast out."

Daniel searched more of his jumbled memories. Cast out.

_Sent to the winds._

Who had said that? He remembered hearing that somewhere.

Jack.... He is not going to the winds.

Jack was worried. Why? Because going to the winds meant....

"They think I'm dead."

Daniel's felt a new stab of pain in his stomach. His head spun, and he found himself no longer able to fend off the pull of sleep. As his eye closed, he saw his teammates walking through the 'gate without him. He tried to call out to them, but his voice was just a whisper in the wind.

- 10 -

Carter pumped her way through her hundredth push up. When she rolled onto her back, Jack noticed she wasn't even winded. Right on cue, her left hand curled itself into a fist, and she began her subconscious pounding ritual once more, this time on the hard floor. Whatever was causing this pent-up energy, it was going to use her up until there was absolutely nothing left. And there wasn't a damned thing her CO could do to help her.

Daniel and Teal'c might already be dead.

Carter was burning herself out.

Jack was responsible for all of them, and all he could do was sit quietly on his cot and wait for a door to open all by itself.

"Colonel, has it occurred to you none of this makes any sense? I mean, if these people are so afraid to go out into the winds, why would whoever built this fortress have to bother with such tight controls to keep them in?"

He shrugged. "In case they stopped being afraid one day, maybe?" He cringed as he watched her fist pounding, pounding into the ground.

"No, I don't think so."

_Pound, pound, pound._

"If someone did get out," _pound, pound, pound_, "they'd die anyway. There would be no point in going through the trouble of the kind of device you described."

Jack drew in a deep breath and went rigid. "We've already been there, Carter."

"No, sir, I know." _Pound, pound, pound_. "I know what you saw. But have you considered that maybe it was designed as a transporter device...?"

"Well, maybe a defective transporter device."

Carter sat up so quickly Jack started in response. But he was just as quick to notice her pounding had stopped.

"Maybe not. Colonel, what if it can only work on biological organisms?"

He cocked his head in consideration. "You have someone in mind to test that theory on, Major? A little deep fried, redhead, maybe?"

She smiled slightly at the implication, but shook her head. "No, sir. Nothing like that. Look, whatever sends these people to the winds works on people who are still alive, albeit barely. And from what we've heard, it also works whenever someone dies."

She waited for his light bulb to go on. It didn't.

Jack raised an eyebrow rather than ask her to continue.

"Obviously it recognizes the organism even if it's dead. We could probably test it on tonight's dinner. All we need is a piece of meat."

"Meat?"

She nodded. "Meat."

"Meat," He repeated with a sideways nod that seemed to say of course, why not? He slowly let out a rush of air. "Okay, Carter, care for a little tour of the kitchen?"

* * *

They had no difficulty reaching the kitchen. They were eyed warily, even followed. But no one tried to stop them. Once there, Jack ignored his audience and wasted no time in grabbing a piece of cooked something from the counter and tossing it at the outer door.

Nothing happened. He looked questioningly at Carter while the crowd in the doorway looked to one another in confusion.

"Well, maybe this door isn't rigged like the other one?" He finally admitted.

Carter tried her best not to provide her CO with an 'I told you so" reaction. Then she grabbed a metal rod from near the fire pit and tossed it at the door. It went up in a bright flash, and then dripped back to the ground in a thick, oozing pool.

She was shocked, but tried to hide that reaction as well. It didn't work. The colonel nodded knowingly.

"Okay, it does seem to recognize the difference," He offered. "Now what?"

"Well, sir, I...."

Most of the onlookers had been scared away by what happened to the rod, but a few stragglers remained, watching cautiously. Before Sam could finish, a teenage boy eased up beside her to take his turn at throwing a piece of meat at the door. When it didn't explode, he grinned at her.

"It knows!" He smiled broadly.

Carter smiled back before turning to her CO. "I'll accept the risk, sir."

"Stand down, Major. I won't."

"But, Colonel, I...."

"You won't have to."

Both turned to see Maywin push her way into the kitchen. "Because I will."

Carter gave the redhead a suspicious glare.

Maywin just smiled back. "You do not trust me." She shrugged. "Why should you? But it is of no matter. Because of you I trust there is something more than this place. You have given me a hope I would never before have dared to imagine. For that, I am willing to test this belief of yours."

Carter's glare softened but did not vanish. "If I'm wrong, you'll die."

Maywin shrugged once more. "I would rather die now than worry forever about when it will be my turn in the winds. Such a death would disappoint no one, Sam Carter. Least of all, you."

Unable to argue and shamed by that fact, Sam looked to the colonel. His expression was unreadable. He knew the truth as well as she.

A moment later, Maywin reached for the door.

Sam held her breath. When the light began to coalesce, she shouted, "No!" and lunged to push Maywin out of the way. An instant later, both women were gone.

Jack never hesitated. As soon as he saw Carter's first step, he dove in behind her. The two women had already vanished by the time he reached the point where they had been, but momentum pushed him right into the door behind them; and in one final, bright flash, he disappeared as well.

At least one prophesy of the _'threes'_ was fulfilled.

Shouting, the onlookers ran away from the kitchen. It may well be weeks before they dared to return for the usual dawn ritual, and only then would be driven by necessity lest they starve.

Yet the teenage boy remained. Curious, wondering, he stared in bewilderment at the door and the melted rod.

- 11 -

Teal'c bowed in thanks to the hooded figure who had led him to where Daniel Jackson was being tended by the Anturee's physicians. He was pleased by their concern for his friend. The Jaffa recognized the Anturee as honored souls, well suited to the duty of protecting others. Daniel Jackson would do well in their hands, though it was unfortunate their efforts must be so hampered by the archeologist's previous addiction to the Goa'uld's sarcophagus.

Standing in the doorway and looking in on the younger man, Teal'c was saddened to see Daniel Jackson's face was so battered and bruised it was barely recognizable. He had endured much in the short time the Jaffa had been able to call him 'friend'. It was that endurance which marked him as a hated enemy among the Goa'uld and an honored friend to Teal'c. Surely it was also that endurance which had kept the archeologist alive long enough to allow the Anturee to help him.

Daniel Jackson had the heart of a hero, if not a warrior. Teal'c had known very few real heroes in his lifetime. He was not content to see this one suffer.

Seeing his friend's eyelids flutter open, Teal'c prepared himself for the anticipated greeting, assuming the younger man had somehow sensed his presence. But instead of turning toward the doorway, Daniel Jackson turned to look at the hooded figure tending the tube in his neck. Teal'c's guide had informed him such a tube would provide his friend with nourishment, as his stomach was not yet capable of digesting real food.

Once again the Jaffa regretted Daniel Jackson's healing could not be more readily hastened by the Anturee's technologies. Even knowing his friend would be healed more quickly here than at the SGC, Teal'c could not allow himself to be satisfied with such slow progress. Yet there was nothing Teal'c could do to change it. There was nothing he could do at all to help his honored friend. Nothing except let him know he was not alone.

Teal'c stepped into the room. "Daniel Jackson."

When Daniel turned in the direction of his voice, Teal'c could see that one eye was swollen shut, and the other seemed to have difficulty focusing.

"Teal'c?"

"Yes, Daniel Jackson. I am pleased to see you are...."

"Don't. Please. Don't say 'well'. I am definitely not well."

"Indeed. It was my intent to say I am pleased to see you are alive."

"Oh.... Well, that. Yes. Thank you. So am I." Though his strength had improved significantly since he'd first awakened, Daniel's voice now began to fade. He lay back and cleared his throat before turning to Teal'c once more. "I, uh, I'm glad to see you, too. I thought you were all still up there," He waved vaguely above him with a bandaged hand, somewhere."

Daniel squinted against the odd memories that kept returning, as though that simple action might clarify them for him. When it did not, he looked to his friend for answers. "Teal'c, did I...?"

The Jaffa raised an eyebrow, waiting for the rest of the question.

"Teal'c, I didn't.... Did I actually fight someone?"

"Indeed. And you would have done well if you had not grown impatient."

"Impatient?"

"You sought to defeat your opponent without regard to your own stamina."

"I thought it was all a bad dream. I hoped it was all a bad dream."

"It was not."

"Yeah." Daniel closed his eye. "Maraai, one of the physicians here, told me I had a reaction to a healing."

"Indeed. You were healed with a device that fed a need for violence. That reaction disrupts your healing now."

"Just my luck."

"Luck would not seem to apply to this situation, Daniel Jackson."

"Right." Daniel smiled. "I'm glad you're here, Teal'c. Did Sam and Jack go back to brief General Hammond?"

"O'Neill and Major Carter remain trapped within the fortress."

"Trapped? Then how...." His sense of peace shattered, Daniel reacted more strongly than his body could handle, and he began to cough in agonizing spasms.

Teal'c waited until his friend could breathe normally again, then provided the explanation he believed Daniel Jackson sought. "When we saw the manner in which you were sent to the winds, I subjected myself to similar circumstances, to enable me to follow you."

"You subj..." Daniel's eyes widened so much he could finally see a line of light through his swollen lid. "You threw a fight?"

"I allowed myself to sustain injuries beyond the healing capabilities of those who dwell in the fortress above."

"Teal'c...." Another coughing fit interrupted his words. "You could have died," He managed to say when the coughing subsided. "If I really had been sent to the winds instead of... here... Teal'c, we both might have died out there."

Daniel could barely see the Jaffa's slight nod of acknowledgement.

"Colonel O'Neill believed the risk to be a worthy one."

Stunned silence prevented Daniel from responding. He looked at the golden ceiling that had at first terrified him but eventually came to soothe him when he was made to realize he truly was safe, and there would be no more fighting. A moment later, he turned what little sight he had back toward Teal'c.

"You mean Jack actually believed saving my life was worth risking yours?" He struggled to prevent another fit of coughing as a tear formed in the corner of his good eye.

Teal'c set his jaw. "O'Neill believed saving your life was worth risking his own. I convinced him otherwise."

"You... did?" Daniel wasn't sure whether or not he should feel offended by that comment.

Another slight nod. "I knew my prim'ta would reduce the risk."

Daniel started to shake his head, but stopped when his swollen eye started throbbing again. After steeling himself against a wave of pain, he turned back to his friend. "Teal'c, I don't know what to say."

Teal'c raised an eyebrow, a gesture the patient could picture even if he couldn't see it clearly. "Say whatever words come into your mind, Daniel Jackson."

The patient smiled. "That's just it, Teal'c. There are no words. You risked your life for me.... And Jack let you." Now he did shake his head, ignoring the resulting pain. "Thank you just doesn't cover something like that."

He looked at the Jaffa once more and smiled sleepily. "I'm glad to see you came through it okay. I don't think I could live with myself if... if you didn't."

Teal'c tilted his head to the side. "If I failed to come through this with my health, it would mean we were sent outside instead of here, and you would be dead, Daniel Jackson."

Daniel's smile widened. This wasn't even close to the SGC, but suddenly he felt very much at home.

Then he remembered. Jack and Sam were still trapped in a place where the only option for escape should not be an option at all.

His sense of home was shattered.

- 12 -

Jack O'Neill found himself on the top of a pile of bodies. Female bodies. He hurriedly extracted himself, muttering apologies when his hands wound up in places they didn't belong, then tried to atone by helping the others get to their feet. A few startled and uncomfortable glances ended with the three new arrivals quickly assessing injuries. Luckily, none required immediate attention, leaving the newcomers free to inspect their surroundings.

Jack responded with an "Oh, for crying out loud."

Carter gave a soft "Holy Hannah."

And Maywin stared about her in amazement. The brilliance of the golden walls utterly dazzled her. In her navet, she smiled broadly.

Carter's look was far more knowing. "Colonel, you don't think...."

Jack sighed in frustration. "Why not? It would fit right in with how the rest of this day has gone."

"What is this place?" Maywin's eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning.

"This... is not where we want to be right now." Jack looked guardedly around the room, anticipating the heavy clunk of marching Jaffa to interrupt them at any moment, "Or ever."

"Oh, but it is so beautiful!"

"Looks can be deceiving. Trust me."

He held Carter's eye until the moment ended with the major's brief, sad smile. Her gaze shifted to something behind her CO. She opened her mouth, seeming ready to utter a warning, when a look of confusion furrowed her brow instead. The colonel turned cautiously, expecting the worst, not at all ready to see a group of glowing, hooded figures.

* * *

As fascinating as their explanations surely would have been to Daniel, Jack O'Neill was not interested just now. His first priority was his team. And with two members of that team MIA, the story of the Auntie Em's here could wait. Once he learned there were no Goa'uld or Jaffa to worry about, Jack insisted that his new hosts take him directly to Teal'c and Daniel.

Moments later, he, Carter and Maywin were led to another golden room. The furnishings were few, with a single small bed Jack was both pleased and disheartened to see occupied by Daniel, and just a handful of chairs scattered about. Still, the lavish imprint of the Goa'uld was definitely evident in more than just the walls. The sheets on the bed appeared to be satin, and the chairs were large, velvet settees with gilded arms and legs.

"Teal'c?" He called out to the familiar figure occupying one of the settees.

The Jaffa stood and turned toward the doorway. "O'Neill. Major Carter." He nodded to each in turn. "You are uninjured."

Jack smiled to see his friend also was in good health. "Yeah. Turns out we found another way out after all...." He scratched his head and shrugged sheepishly at the admission. "But, hey, I'm glad to see your plan worked out, too. I'd really hate to have to kill you if you'd gone ahead and died on me out there."

Teal'c raised an eyebrow. "I am quite well. And as I recall, the plan was yours, O'Neill. I merely enacted it."

"Yeah, well, details." Jack paused, studying his friend. "Seriously, Teal'c. I'm glad you're okay. You didn't deserve to go through what you did."

"Nor did Daniel Jackson."

"Yeah," Jack replied softly. "How's he doing?" He nodded at the bed where the fourth member of their team slept. "Shouldn't he be better by now? We were just assured their healing actually works down here. Not like up top."

Rather than wait for Teal'c's reply, Jack called out to one of the hooded figures. "Hey, Doc! When are you going to fix him? He was here first, after all. No offense, Teal'c."

"Stop shouting, would you?" Daniel waited a moment until he could be sure he wasn't dreaming. When he finally spoke, he was glad to hear his voice was growing stronger. Then, opening his eyes, he was equally pleased he could see Jack with both of them. "Some of us are trying to sleep."

Jack just shrugged in typical Jack fashion. The gesture made Daniel smile. SG-1 was back together again. Things might actually be returning to normal.

"Sleep's over-rated anyway," Jack said in a slightly hushed voice, just short of admitting he should have been more sensitive to the patient.

After he looked around the room, failing miserably in his attempt to appear interested in the gadgetry and protect himself from an emotional reunion, he locked eyes with the younger man. "I'm glad to see you're okay."

Thanks, Jack, Daniel thought. He did not need to speak the words. Instead, he gave a small shake of his head and responded with the sarcasm his friend would expect. "Okay.... Yeah. Hunky-dorie."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Well, yeah. Compared to what you looked like in the pit, anyway. And don't go stealing my lines."

"Daniel Jackson's healing is progressing," Teal'c finally replied, interrupting the little discourse. "He has already improved since I first entered this room. There was much to repair, and his extensive use of the sarcophagus has impeded the Anturee's efforts."

"Okay, see, that's good news.... Well, not the impeding part, but...."

"Jack," Daniel needed to change the subject. "Teal'c said you and Sam were still trapped."

"Yeah, well, we managed to find a way out."

"I'm glad."

"So am I."

- 13 -

While Daniel slept through another stage of his recovery, Major Carter, Colonel O'Neill, Teal'c and Maywin were treated to a feast in a common room that was quite different from the one above'. Here, people sat at long tables and held actual conversations. Moreover, they ate with utensils. And though there were several hundred people present -- and very few of them among the hooded variety -- the room was entirely fight free.

"Now, you see," Jack indicated the crowd of polite feasters. "This is a good thing. What's going on up there..." He waved a hand in the general direction of the ceiling, "is not."

"It is the way it has always been," Replied the hooded figure sitting opposite him. "It is as the Goa'uld commanded."

"But the Goa'uld are gone," Carter chimed in. "You said yourselves they haven't been back in generations."

"We accepted the responsibility to service those above. We have kept to our promise."

Jack shook his head. "That's where you're wrong. The Goa'uld don't care about promises. All they care about is power. They had power over you. They controlled you. That's it. But they don't control you anymore. You're free. Those people up there are free. Don't you think it's time they got to actually know that?"

"If the Goa'uld return, we will have failed them. They will destroy us."

"You have already failed them," Teal'c's firm voice silenced the entire table. "You have broken your promise by saving these people from dying in the winds."

The Anturee looked to one another in silence.

Jack cleared his throat. "You see? Change is a good thing. You saved these people's lives. Now save the ones up top."

"What do you ask of us?"

"Give them new healing devices for one thing," Carter said quickly. "Those things they have now just promote anger and violence."

"As was their function."

"But it doesn't have to be their function anymore," Carter was growing frustrated. "The Goa'uld are gone!"

"Major?" Jack looked at her, concerned. "Are you sure these guys here fixed that little 'chemical reaction" thing you had going on?"

"Yes, sir. I'm fine. This, what they're allowing to continue, it's just wrong. Those devices are like an addiction. Whether you're the one using it or the one getting healed doesn't matter. The more you're touched by it, the more violent you become. It's an unbreakable cycle."

As Carter spoke about Maywin's culture, she could feel the other's eyes on her, but chose to ignore the woman's presence. She had to get her point across to the Anturee. If Maywin's feelings ended up wounded, it would be an unfortunate but necessary casualty.

"Those people are now your slaves." Carter stared at the hooded figure opposite her, wishing she could see its eyes. "Don't you see that? They're not slaves of the Goa'uld anymore. You're now the ones controlling them."

More silence. Carter did not look away.

"If the Goa'uld return, they will destroy us," One of the Anturee repeated.

"Okay now, there, we can help you," Jack offered. "We can help defend you against the Goa'uld. Heck, you have better stuff to fight them with than we do, and we've been kicking some..." He caught himself and cleared his throat. "We've been holding our own pretty well."

A white light began to form in the center of the table. It gave off no heat, but surprised as he was, Jack drew his hands back as though burned. After it grew to occupy about one square foot of space, a picture formed within it. The colonel recognized the room he, Carter and Maywin had arrived in. Then he recognized the teenage boy he had last seen in the kitchen above.

He raised an eyebrow. "There, now, you see," He began, acting like the picture in the table thing was not at all unusual. "They're already starting to question what's been going on. Why don't you just go ahead and give them the answers?"

Maywin rose from the table.

"You have given my people many gifts," The redhead said to the Anturee. "And for this, we thank you. But we can accept them no more. Not at the price we have paid."

She met Carter's eyes just for a moment. Then, smiling, she continued her speech.

"We could accept trade, among friends. But no more gifts to make us slaves. This is what Jack and Carter offer my people."

* * *

Sam was distinctly uncomfortable throughout the long feast. Maybe the colonel was right. Maybe she hadn't been entirely cured of the effects of the healing device. When she noticed a large number of diners beginning to file out of the room, she announced her desire to check on Daniel. She could also discretely discuss her concerns with Maraai, Daniel's primary physician.

Unfortunately, Maywin followed her out into the corridor.

"You argue well, Carter. I have a cousin who would find that an attractive feature in a woman." The redhead smiled mischievously.

Angry and uncharacteristically flustered, Carter did not respond right away, but when Maywin kept in step with her, she knew she could not remain silent.

"Did my arguments offend you?" She asked diplomatically.

"I accept them," Maywin responded, simply.

Feeling slightly guilty, Sam made an attempt to soften her tone. "You're okay with all this?"

"I understand what has been done. I understand what must be done. And on behalf of my people, I have accepted we will learn the ways of your people and the Anturee to move us away from being slaves."

Sam turned away, rolling her eyes as she focused on the word 'slaves', a word Maywin had not known until Sam had raised it in her speech to the Anturee. She was so caught up in her own frustration it took her a moment to realize Maywin had stopped walking beside her. As she retraced her steps, she saw Maywin was still smiling.

"You and I are much alike, Carter. I know we have both been healed of this... addiction?"

Maywin looked at her to confirm she had used the proper word. At Sam's quick nod, the redhead nodded back and continued. "But I still have the trials in my blood. They are part of who I have always been, and so they are a part of who I am. And you..." she studied Sam for a moment. "Somehow I sense you can understand this. The trials are in you, as well."

She chuckled softly at Sam's surprised reaction. "I regret we were unable to meet in the pit."

Strangely, Carter could not help but smile in return as a fragment of a dream once again brought her the image of the general as a referee.

She shook her head in bewilderment and stepped away to continue her trek to Daniel's room. Maywin was starting to grow on her. Maybe she did not need to speak with Daniel's physician after all.

When she noticed Maywin had not rejoined her, she turned back, considering a friendly challenge in the gym at the SGC, complete with rules and referees. "I'm sure we can still work something out."

_~Epilogue~_

Daniel hesitated. He'd been anxious to return to P9X-721 ever since Dr. Fraiser had pronounced him fit. Now that General Hammond had finally given his go-ahead as well, Daniel's eagerness should have driven him through the Stargate ahead of the rest of the team. Instead, he held back, watching as the members of SG-9 disappeared one after the other into the watery blue event horizon.

"You don't have to go, you know."

He turned at the sound of Jack's voice. The colonel's stance was casual. His hands rested in his pockets but were not buried so deep as to suggest he was under any stress. His eyes told a different story.

"SG-9 is more than qualified to bring those two cultures together."

Daniel lowered his head and smiled sadly. This was a new argument, albeit a subtle one. Jack had been far more animated days earlier when he'd tried to convince first Daniel then the general that diplomacy with P9X-721 was not a viable mission. The brutes in the fortress would never pay attention to words. The Anturee did not seem capable of fighting anyone. Putting those two cultures together would probably finish what Ra had started long ago and wipe out the Anturee once and for all.

That sparring match had been easily won. Daniel had a ready answer for any and every argument Jack tossed his way. Maywin and Raegal, the teenage boy who had come through after her, would bridge the gap between the two dissimilar peoples. The Anturee would free Maywin's people from the fighting frenzy caused by the healing devices. As for Jack's other more protective concerns, the Anturee had already agreed to disconnect the fortress systems designed to detect and eliminate weaponry, thus the team would be well able to defend itself.

And you trust them? Jack had thrown back at him. They won't even show their faces.

Daniel's ' matter of fact', smug look had been more than enough to disarm that last round.

You saw their faces?

Well, Maraai's. Yes. Jack, they only cover themselves because the Goa'uld convinced them they were not fit to be seen. That they were, for lack of a better word, ugly.

Ugly? As in uglier than an Unas?

Essentially. Yes.

Accepting defeat, Jack's curiosity had taken over, but Daniel would not appease it, disclosing nothing about the Anturee's true form. It would take some time to convince the Anturee the Goa'uld's assessment was not only wrong, but entirely unjustified. Then perhaps he might be allowed to record their fascinatingly unique appearance -- the long, slender limbs and most remarkable, the shagbark-hickory appearance of their skin, strong and thick, like the tree Daniel compared it to.

Daniel owed it to them to respect their privacy. What he owed to Maywin's people was a bit more complicated.

He watched as another member of SG-9 stepped through the Stargate.

"You're right, Jack. They don't need me." He looked back at his friend, seeing he had caught Jack off guard. "I need them."

More surprise. With Jack at a definite loss for words, Daniel tried to fill in the blanks.

"I don't like who I was... who I became... when I was there before."

This one Jack could respond to. "You weren't you then. You weren't in control of what you did."

"That's just it, Jack. I can't just walk away knowing that."

"No one would think twice about it if you did."

Daniel nodded. "No one but me."

He closed his eyes against the vision he had not been able to dispel. He saw the animal he had become. He felt himself striking out at that young man, punching him repeatedly for no reason other than the sheer pleasure of it. Had he been more fit, he would have gladly killed his opponent. And he would have savored every moment.

That the tables had turned and the young man had won instead of Daniel did not matter. That his opponent probably didn't care, might not even remember, did not matter. Daniel would have killed him.

He had to make amends. He had to set it right.

He took a step closer to the Stargate when Jack called out. "Just do me one favor, okay?"

The colonel waited for Daniel to turn around.

"Stay out of the pit, will 'ya?"

Daniel smiled. Those simple words were enough to appease whatever unknown ghosts were holding him back. With a quick wave in acknowledgement, he found himself able to face this private mission with a renewed sense of enthusiasm.

Thanks to Jack, the healing had finally begun.

_* end * _


End file.
